


The Ticklish Adventures of a Wandering Samurai

by YvesAdele



Category: Samurai Jack (Cartoon)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, F/M, Fetish, Implied A Lot Of Things, Implied First Time, Light Bondage, Mostly porn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Some Plot, Tickling, Tickling fetish, Ticklish Jack, Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 10:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19130389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YvesAdele/pseuds/YvesAdele
Summary: Jack has been on his quest in the future for over five years now. When he learns that he may finally get a step ahead of Aku, no trial is too great to overcome! There is a strange twist, though.It seems he'll need to endure trial by tickling. No big deal...right?





	The Ticklish Adventures of a Wandering Samurai

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fever-dream mess, and the concept cracked me up and was kinda hot so, naturally, I had to write it. Takes place between seasons 4 and 5. Maybe there will be more, maybe there won't! Either way, enjoy this nonsense.

            “Before you can unlock the secrets of old, you must first submit yourself to a series of trials that will drain you physically, emotionally, and spiritually. The spirits must find you a worthy recipient. Be warned, Samurai; many have come to us to learn our secrets throughout the ages, but few walk away with them.”

            With a solemn nod, Jack said, “I understand, and I accept your conditions.”

            The old witch doctor smiled, crooked teeth glinting in the candlelight. “Excellent. I have a good feeling about you, my friend. Your quest is a noble and daring one, and far overdue if I may offer my personal input.”

            “I hope I can prove myself worthy.”

            Of any physical trials he would endure, Jack was certain he could pass. He had been five years wandering this strange and alien land he once called home, and his strength and skill had only improved through his time spent there. He had also confidence that any spiritual trials these people had in store could not surpass the tribulations placed upon him by Aku, and so it was with head held high and a small smile on his lips that he followed the old man out of his yurt and toward a group of elders, to whom he simply nodded.

            “Perhaps,” said a frail, withered woman, “the spirits will finally find someone worthy.”

            “That is what we’re here to learn today,” said the witch doctor.

 

****

 

            Over the next weeks, Jack demonstrated every facet of his physical ability – from climbing rock walls, carrying heavy objects, to maneuvering through complex and dangerous courses of obstacles – until his bones ached and his feet and hands blistered, and then he endured more still.

            It was easily a month before the council finally granted him reprieve, upon which Jack slept for nearly two full days as his body mended itself.

            Upon waking on the third day, a woman he had only seen around, never met, sat on the dusty ground near his cot. She had her back to him, legs crossed, looking relaxed as she watched the community through the slightly-open tent flap.

            “What is the time?” Jack inquired, sitting up and rubbing sleep from his eyes. He brushed the hair out of his face to pin it up; it was filthy to touch, crusted with mud and sticks and sweat. Now rested, the full force of his bodily odor met his olfactory senses. He cringed. This was certainly not the first impression he wished to make on her.

            “It’s just after breakfast,” the woman said. Her voice floated like a soft melody, sure and sweet, and Jack decided he could ask for no more pleasant a wakeup call.

            “What is my task today?”

            “To bathe and prepare for the final test.”

            He lit up. He stood, and she followed suit.

            “That is excellent news,” he said.

            She turned to face him and smiled. “I’m called Robyn. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

            “The pleasure is mine,” he replied. “They call me Jack.”

            “I know who you are, Samurai. Come; let us get you fed and bathed.”

            “That sounds wonderful.”

            Breakfast was a spread of fresh fruits and cheeses, and Jack devoured perhaps more in one sitting than ever he had in his life. Between the excessive physical exertion and his extended slumber, it was the hungriest he could remember being in all his years of travel.

            Robyn cheerfully walked him through what his day was to be, starting with a meeting with the elders and culminating in his final trial, the details of which she would not relay to him.

            “This will be determined by the elders upon conferring with the spirits,” she explained. “It is different for everyone. Many who seek our wisdom don’t even make it to this point, and fewer still are able to pass the final test.”

            “What is so grueling about it?” Jack asked, through a mouthful of melon.

            “The spirits guide our elders in selecting something that will become a hindrance to you, sometime on your journey,” she said. “Before moving forward, you must overcome the obstacles that stand in your way. The same is true in your pursuit of knowledge. If you show that you’re able to endure, you will have proven your worth and endurance, and your journey can continue.”

            “I believe that to be fair.” Jack gave a short nod and continued his breakfast.

 

            Following his meal, Robyn showed him to an iron tub on the outskirts of the village. It had been filled with warm water and scented oils. She instructed him to cleanse himself, and that he could call her name if he found himself in need of anything. She offered to help him wash, which Jack refused with a blush and a laugh.

            When he emerged, she stood close and pulled the pin from his hair, letting it fall, damp, around his shoulders.

            He gave her a look of puzzlement, and she simply said, “You will need to take it down, anyway. I cannot explain it now. Besides,” she gave a small smile, “I think it suits you better this way.”

            Jack conceded with a grin.

 

            Just after noon, he met again with the council. The witch doctor, whose name he learned to be Thayer, sat quietly, gripping his gnarled cane as the chief councilman Cyrus spoke.

            “Your feats have proven most impressive,” said Cyrus, addressing Jack. “We, as well as our ancestors, are pleased with your accomplishments thus far. As such, we have agreed that you may stand to face the final trial. Should you pass, you will be granted access to our vast annals of knowledge, which shall reveal to you the information you seek.”

            Jack’s heart _tha-thumped_ in his chest; these people claimed to hold in their archives maps of all of the land’s time portals. This knowledge would put him ahead of Aku for good. No longer would he be able to sniff out Jack’s inquiries and beat him to his destination. He couldn’t destroy the portals if he didn’t know which one Jack would find next. A rush of adrenaline drove him to stand straight, and he cracked a smile.

            “I am ready to accept! Anything you wish, I shall perform.”

            “This is good to hear.” Cyrus nodded and stepped aside. “Robyn, after spending the morning with Jack, what is your assessment?”

            “I find him to be pure of heart,” she said.

            Jack turned her way with a quizzical expression. Her expression remained neutral. This must have been the purpose of her visit, though he wondered why he only met her that day. If her intention was to judge his character, shouldn’t they have been spending the past weeks together rather than just one half day? Perhaps she had been observing him more than he realized.

            No matter, he decided, so long as she found him worthy.

            “Very well, then.” Cyrus nodded to Thayer.

            The old man hopped off his seat and hobbled toward Jack with a toothy smirk. He prodded at the gi with his cane, looking up to make eye contact. “If you would, please remove your robe.”

            Jack’s eyebrows drew down. “I beg your pardon?”

            “Yes, yes, to better get your reading, young man.”

            He glanced up at the group. None of them had an averse reaction to the strange request, so he obliged, untying his gi at the front and handing it to Thayer. Thayer draped it with care over the closest seat, and he raised his gnarled, rough hands up to place them on Jack’s shoulders, muttering under his breath. Jack measured his own response to the contact, allowing the old man to gage him. He swept Jack’s long hair to his back, touched down his arms, examined his hands, felt his torso, and all this as he never ceased uttering words that Jack could not understand.

            The council remained in silence, Cyrus standing, arms at his sides, as the other members sat and watched. Thayer circled Jack slowly, maintaining contact in some fashion or another, touching his back, his head, even swiping a hand roughly and awkwardly over his face, at which Jack couldn’t resist a small laugh.

            After several passes, Thayer stood back. He crossed one arm over his chest and tapped his stubbly chin with the other hand. With a cautious look at Robyn, he asked, “My dear, did you happen to…read him? Before I did?”

            She nodded. “I have received this impression for several days now, but I was curious as to what your reading might yield. I don’t believe you are mistaken. I wondered if you would come to the same conclusion as I did.”

            Thayer chuckled and looked back up at Jack. “Son, it seems the spirits are looking kindly upon you today, unless you hold in your heart a peculiar terror like none other.”

            Jack looked from the young woman to the old man, eyes sweeping the other elders before landing back on the doctor. “I don’t understand.”

            “Neither do I, but this is the way of our people, and we will not disrespect that which is called upon us to protect, nor the fashion in which we are called to protect it, even if we cannot fully grasp the intricacies of our duties.”

            The answer did nothing to absolve his confusion, so Jack asked, “What is it you would have me do?”

            “The trial is simple! At any point, you may relinquish your claim to wisdom through this journey by simply saying the word.” Thayer cackled, low and peculiarly amused. “It seems the spirits would have us test your resilience via the ancient practice of _tickling_.”

            It was all Jack could do not to laugh aloud. That was all? After everything, all that was left was to endure some children’s play? A confident grin brightened his countenance. It seemed his earlier trepidation was for naught, and he straightened and nodded. Perhaps he had already proven himself during the month spent enduring strenuous tests, including exhaustion and starvation. This was a gift.

            “I will accept your trial.”

            “Very well!” Thayer gave his cane two solid taps on the ground and turned to the council. “Samurai Jack accepts. We shall begin at once.”

            Jack picked his gi up from the chair, but just as quickly it was snatched from his hands.

            “You will not need this,” Thayer said, waving the garment. “Follow me.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. Most of the council did not join them, moving on to other matters even as Jack departed.

            Thayer’s airy bemusement was contagious, and Jack found himself laughing along as he accompanied the old man out toward a tall, ceremonial tent, the outside of which boasted lavish floral dressings and garlands. Through the opening, Jack observed the interior, decorated with several small, wooden stools, each holding herbs and candles. A pleasant aroma filled the small space, and in the middle stood a thick, upright wooden board. The board itself had colorful flowers and bundles of sage tied to the frame.

            “This shall be where we hold the trial,” Thayer told him.

            Jack nodded. “This is a beautiful place,” he said.

            “Most visitors never get to see it. You are a special exception, young warrior. Our ancestors have found you worthy insofar as you have proven yourself. Endure this last test, and you will unlock secrets few are permitted.”

            Nearly bubbling with excitement, Jack couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “I am honored to be here. Thank you for your accommodations during my time with your people; your generosity and kindness will not be forgotten.”

            Thayer simply patted his arm in response and turned to leave.

            Jack watched him walk away and said, “What am I to do now?”

            At the egress, the witch doctor smiled his toothy grin and said, “Robyn will walk you through the test. Wait here for her.”

            “Will she be…” He paused, uncertain how to phrase the question, a blush dusting his cheeks.

            “Administering the course of inquest? Yes.”

            Jack nodded, and the old man left him alone to freely examine his surroundings. The thick canvas of the structure effectively blotted the hard afternoon sun, leaving only candlelight by which to see. The scents and soft flickering light were soothing, and he slowly paced, checking each display thoroughly to make his best attempt at identifying the plants it held. He soon turned his attention to the monolith, the obvious centerpiece of the room, approaching it with care.

            It looked to be much more than ceremonial in structure, with a thick, sturdy base. He leaned forward and inhaled the sweet aroma of sage, smiling as his eyes fluttered closed. It was reminiscent of home, and his heart warmed. The possibility of returning loomed before him, just out of reach, though he drew closer by the moment. He would never stop – _could_ never stop. Not until he got back there, until he could hear the chirping of crickets and feel the grass beneath his feet, hear the sounds of children playing…

            Emotions welled inside of Jack, and he opened his eyes and exhaled, willing away tears. Though he persisted, he was tired. Many times his hopes had been raised, only to be crushed by the demon Aku moments before victory. Still, he held on to hope, to that sliver of memory that could bring him back to the world he knew and loved.

“Are you ready to begin, Jack?”

Robyn’s voice as the door gave him a start, and he whirled around to face her, clearing his constricted throat. Now was the time for action, not wishes.

“Yes!” he said. “What am I to do?”

She approached and gently guided him around to the far side of the board. Upon closer examination, he noticed two sets of leather-lined, wooden bands, one at the top and one at the bottom. They were bolted to the structure on a ratcheting track. It didn’t take long to discover their purpose, as Robyn gently guided his arms over his head.

“If you wish to end the trial,” she explained, “you need only to say the words ‘I relinquish.’ Do you understand?”

“I understand. But,” he paused, resisting her guidance for a moment. “Is the restraint…necessary? I don’t intend to resist.”

“It is part of the process,” she replied. “If you want to continue, you must allow it.”

A small uneasiness crept over him, but Jack did his best to quell it. If Robyn intended to harm him, she could easily have done so as he slept that morning.

She secured his wrists into the upper set of cuffs then turned a wooden knob, so small that Jack didn’t see it until she used it, which caused the contraption to emit a series of clicks as the cuffs rose higher, until his arms were stretched fully over his head. The padding within the restraints kept the wood from biting into his hands, simply holding them in place.

“Any discomfort?” she asked, bending down to repeat the process at his ankles.

Jack’s only discomfort lay in the concept of being bound itself, but as far as the shackles causing any harm to his body? “No, I am fine.”

“Good. If you begin to lose feeling anywhere, I trust you will tell me right away?”

“I will.” He swallowed thickly against his anxieties. “And I may call a stop to this at any point?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, it is not my intention to force you to do anything. The bonds are only to keep you from flailing about.”

“May I ask what this device is normally for?” He shuddered as cool air caressed his exposed torso. “I don’t get the impression this is its typical use.”

Robyn laughed. “It’s really not. This room is used to free our people of their illnesses and dark spirits. It is designed to bring about peace of mind and tranquility. In rare cases, when being purged of evil, some react with physical violence. It is usually not with the intention to harm, but this table provides a sense of comfort and stability through any rituals or cleansings.”

“And this is always with the person’s consent?”

“Of course!” She placed both hands on his chest; they were warm, and the touch was pleasant, feeding an energy of pure intentions into him. The room was well-equipped to deliver its peace, though it did not settle the tremble that took him up.

Robyn’s touched traveled higher, toward his neck, and she said, “Now, please try to relax. I’m going to examine you for sensitive areas before we begin, and I’m going to open my mind to your energy. The more open you are, the easier the process will be.”

Though it was climbing to the top of his _strangest rituals endured_ list, Jack made his best effort to loosen his muscles and let go of his inhibitions. Her readings consisted of touches similar to Thayer’s, but gentler and slower. She closed her eyes, sliding her hands up further to cup his face, brushing his cheeks with her thumbs. She smelled distantly of lilac, and Jack closed his own eyes, allowing the touch to bring a comfort and relaxation he didn’t often encounter. She brushed her fingers back through his hair, which felt so nice it gave him goosebumps.

Some trial this was turning out to be: the most pleasant one he’d ever partaken. His worry began to dissipate as she worked her way back down to his chest, and she continued to feel along his skin, up his arms, applying a firm yet tender pressure that helped to melt his tension away. Was he meant to find enjoyment in the treatment? He considered voicing the question, but he did not wish to interrupt whatever ritual or process she may be undergoing. He wasn’t sure if speaking would break her concentration, and it certainly didn’t warrant complaint. She brushed against his palms, and Jack uncurled his fingers to accept the examination, smiling for the brief moment she remained, warm breath measured against his neck.

Her hands found their way lower, still a solid touch, down his ribs, his abdomen, and down his sides to his legs. Though she still hadn’t altered the fashion of her movements, Jack found the contact there peculiarly intimate, and it caused his already-racing pulse to quicken, heat finding his cheeks. Usually, when being grabbed by his legs, it was in combat by someone who wished him harm. This was gentler, more caring, delicate hands making his belly flutter as the warmth in his face reached his ears.

Robyn did not linger, completing her ritual by placing her palms on the tops of his feet, after which she opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

“I’m surprised,” she said, after a moment. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone with your physicality. You’re genetically quite different from my people, and I think this will result in you being significantly more sensitive. Perhaps this is the reason the spirits found this trial appropriate.”

A small flutter in his chest, Jack said, “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re quite ticklish. Remember, if you desire to stop at any point, you must only say that you relinquish.”

“I won’t forget.”

“Then let’s fuss no more with formalities. And please,” she added, “don’t be offended if I seem to find this…” she paused, then added, with a small shrug, “fun.”

“Do not be offended if I also find it fun,” he replied, mischief quirking a brow despite his nerves. Robyn had the shining hair and soft features of a woman that, in more ordinary circumstances, he may even find himself liable to pursue in a romantic fashion. Additionally, by no stretch did Jack hate tickling; in the appropriate setting, he remembered finding it quite enjoyable, though he’d never been…

…well, he’d always been able to fight back.

With a great smile, Robyn said, “Nothing would please me more. I’ll begin with a lighter touch, and we will escalate from there. I will tell you when we are finished, but not how much longer you have to endure at any given point.”

Jack opened his mouth to acknowledge, but Robyn had already placed her fingers upon his ribs and began in light, scratching motions, which less _tickled_ than _itched_. Despite this, he huffed out a soft laugh and relented a slight squirm. The movement reaffirmed his state of captivity. He shuddered. The contact was much more present in his mind due to his bound position, and it ticked on a giddy nervousness.

“About as I expected,” she said. “I don’t believe I’ll find you to be ticklish here.” She moved her hands up to repeat the motion at his forearms, and she was right; the featherlight touch just sent pleasant goosebumps up his arms.

“No, but you may continue to do that, if you wish,” he tried.

Robyn laughed. “Perhaps another time. For now, we have a purpose.” She spidered the touches further down his arms, and they began to feel ticklish again nearer to his shoulders, on the sensitive undersides of his biceps. This he betrayed with another snigger and wriggle, hands curling into fists above the cuffs holding them in place. With his arms secured over his head, the natural urge to protect these more vulnerable areas was diminished to a small jerk.

“Here, I thought, may be effective,” she said, dipping her fingers into the hollows under his arms, which earned a giddy chortle. The gentle scratches sent tingles down his spine, tickling and making him twist involuntarily away from the touch.

“Do you find this troublesome yet?” Robyn asked with clinical curiosity.

Between giggles, Jack said, “Noho-ho, hehehe it’s just – hahaha – just tihickling!” Despite his confident words, Jack was growing warm, thankful now for the cool breeze on his bare skin. He began to realize how long it had been since he had experienced this sensation as more than something from nature, like the tickle of a string on his robe or hair on his neck. The repeating, gentle flicking beneath his arms was far more encompassing than he recalled, and he took a deep breath to try and regain control of his reactions, closing his eyes and pressing his lips into a hard line. He didn’t often experience pleasant physical contact, either – far less so with a beautiful woman – and his feelings toward the situation were growing more confusing.

“You’re allowed to laugh,” Robyn assured. Her tone that time was far more gleeful than he would have liked, and her composure compared to his, quickly crumbling, was embarrassing.

Jack sucked in a lungful of air through his nose and, through gritted teeth, said, “I am reserving my energy.” It was not truthful, as holding in his laughter actually required more exertion than simply letting go. He wasn’t sure why he responded in that fashion, only that he felt very vulnerable in this position, being picked apart at the seams with the tiniest, calmest of motions.

Robyn conducted herself like a surgeon, calculating and concise, though with a glint of something playfully sinister on her delicate features. She tickled just beneath his underarms, which forced Jack to laugh before he regained control, though the ease with which she yanked the reigns from him was alarming. She hardly touched on the spot before wriggling lithe fingers down over his lower ribs. Jack arched his back, unable to hold back his laughter anymore. It spilled from his lips as he went slack in the bonds, held only by the grip on his wrists. She took advantage of his movement to wiggle her fingers toward his back, and he slammed back against the board, laughter pitching up in tone. He closed his eyes and fought the urge to thrash about, and Robyn’s ministrations migrated to his flanks, just as ticklish as his ribs.

She began the same small, scratching motions on his lower belly, below his navel, and it was at that point that Jack lost the fight, jerking at his ankles and wrists in a vain attempt to fold in on himself, protect his middle from the casual assault. As though she couldn’t help herself, Robyn laughed with him, pivoting her wrists to scratch at the sensitive patch of thin skin at every angle.

Jack laughed and twisted and squeaked, but ultimately he could not escape the persistent tickles, lighting him up and sending him into undignified guffaws.

“I believe I’ve found a very effective area,” Robyn said. Her calm tone fanned his embarrassment, which served for a moment to help reduce his ticklishness.

The reprieve was short-lived, however, as she gently scratched back up toward his ribs and he fell back into hysterics.

It was a few more moments before she stopped, and Jack was left gasping for breath, cheeks flushed, hair slicked to his forehead and cheeks with a light sheen of sweat.

Robyn reached up and brushed it from his face. “Do you wish to continue the trial?” she asked.

Part of Jack wanted to give, to surrender now because the torment proved to be much more difficult than he remembered. It didn’t seem right that he should be so easily manipulated by a painless touch. It sparked a deep regret inside of him, a hidden shame that brought fire to his face and burning to his chest. This time, he would not fail. He must complete his journey, and at present his best option was to endure.

Panting, he said, “I can continue.”

She practically purred a hum in response, her fingers twitching delicately against his skin as she leaned forward. The way she spoke made him shiver and flush. Fingers danced down his sides, and she pressed herself against him, smiling up at his reddened face.

Jack’s breathing fell unsteady. Exacerbating it was her proximity, her soft body suddenly touching his, her floral aroma wafting pleasantly to light his senses. She trailed her touches low, pausing at his waist, thumbs coming to rest on the band of his fundoshi wrap.

It was certainly too close to being a certain kind of touch – a _different_ kind of touch – and blood rushed from his extremities to meet somewhere else, somewhere he wished it wouldn’t in his situation. His stomach somersaulted, and he swallowed, mouth going dry. Though he had only seen her in passing during the past month, he could not deny feeling some attraction toward her. It stunted his ability to speak.

“That’s…a very sensitive area,” he said. He hated the way his voice wavered. Part of him wished she would pick somewhere else to touch, but other instincts were beginning to awaken, instincts that desired for her to keep touching him there, to touch more of him.

“I’m aware. That’s why I’m going to tickle you there.”

“What-ahhahahahaha!”

Her thumbs pressed into his hipbones, not hard enough to hurt, just enough that, when she tweaked and moved them, it sent a squiggly, ticklish feeling all over him, making him shriek and snort and squirm, held firmly in place by the ceremonial bonds. It was the worst instance of _tickling_ that Jack could fathom, and he’d half a mind to call it quits; he could find another way, right?

Right?

Jack gritted his teeth, though unable to stop the laughter, attempting uselessly to kick his legs as Robyn squeezed and pinched at the sweet spot.

“Can youhou ahahaha choo-hoose another place?” he quested, eeking out the words between uncontrollable huffs.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, prodding at more angles, which sent Jack into another fit. “The point is to find the most effective place to tickle.”

He twisted from side to side, trying to escape the intensity, the small touch tearing down his defenses. “Ple-hease..!” He descended into giggles, weak from them, hanging limp, before commencing to struggle again. “Too-hoo hehehehehe sensiti-IVE!”

“Well, I know that!” She laughed. “We already went over this, that’s why I’m tickling you there. Please, try to keep up.”

“Ahhahahaha – I can’t – can’t stand it!” He suppressed a shriek, arching his back, only to thump it several times, hard, against the structure behind him. He tossed his head from side to side, thinking that somehow this might help him to upend her grip on his senses.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she said. “Fine. What about here?” She moved down a few inches, and, much to Jack’s terror, dug her thumbs into the joint where thigh met torso. It was somehow more sensitive than the hipbone itself; he screamed, devolving into helpless laughter, head thrown back. He pulled and pulled on the cuffs around his wrists, seeking any relief, hoping that, if he could win a little slack, he could lessen the ticklishness of the area. He tried to bend his legs to protect the juncture, but they remained bolted firmly beneath him.

His desperate movements only served to heighten his panic, alerting his senses and putting him on guard – which made the tickling worse.

“No – no no no _no no no…_ ” was all he could manage between weak laughter and frantic, struggling movement, until his head hung forward and his laughter became wheezing and shallow, dizziness worming its way in. He had just the capacity to wonder how much longer this might continue, to consider his surrender despite a multitude of misgivings. His instincts fought his logic as his breath fell short.

It was at this point that Robyn finally ceased, rubbing a soothing hand over the spot she had been tormenting. Jack’s whole body buzzed in time with his heartbeat, and he looked up at his tormentor, who wore a playfully sadistic smirk.

“This…” he panted, “is…not as easy as I recall it to be.”

“The trials are never as easy as one would believe,” she agreed. “It is often something seemingly benign, intended to give you a false confidence. Only once your pride and vanities have been washed away can you experience the enlightenment the elders have to bestow.”

Jack huffed a tired laugh. “Well,” he said, “I would say that has certainly been effective. I believe any incorrect notions I had have been eliminated.”

“That is an excellent start. I’m happy to hear this.”

Jack frowned. “…start?”

“Of course! Oh.” Concern crossed her features. “Did you think we had completed the trial?”

“Well, uh…I admit, I had hoped we were nearly done.”

“No, we aren’t.” He expression sobered. “If you do not wish to continue, we can start over and try again tomorrow. There is no limit to the number of attempts you may make.”

“N-no!” The word punched out more desperately than he’d have liked, and he exhaled a shaky breath. “No,” he repeated, more calmly. “I wish to continue.” The thought of having to turn back the clock and start from the beginning was unsettling. “May I have some water before we continue?”

“Sure. I’ll get some.” She smile lasciviously and gave his nose a playful tap before walking away, which startled him in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

Though he was horrified, a moment later, to examine his situation and discover a conspicuous straining in his undergarments. It would be most convenient if that were to diminish before Robyn returned! He closed his eyes, steadying his breath, until his heart rate slowed and he was able to connect himself to the room around him, to the birds chirping outside, the dust beneath his bare feet.

When Robyn returned, he felt slightly more at peace, though a more trepidus unease had swept over him. If it happened again, if she noticed…

In fact, simply contemplating the possibility began to stir something inside of him, and he went hot, nearly choking as Robyn tipped the glass to his lips for him to drink from. He coughed, and Robyn took the cup away, dabbing with her sleeve at the droplets of water that he sputtered out.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he replied, clearing his throat of any leftover fluid. “Am I permitted to request more…clothing?”

She took a step back, brows furrowed, and examined him. The scrutiny, her dark eyes sweeping over his body, brought his blush up full-force, and the infuriating stirring in his nethers kicked fully to life.

“Why? There is nothing unusual about – _oh._ ” Her eyes landed there, and Jack’s stomach dropped, heart beating so fast it might meet an early expiration. Worse yet, she simply stared for several moments, not betraying her thoughts with so much as a flick of her eyes.

His face burned, heat seeping outward to make his ears feel hot and sweat coalesce on his forehead and palms. He wanted to disappear, to crumble to ash and dust; instead, he stood tall, arms stretched high above him, legs anchored in place, body stretched and on full display as Robyn closely examined him. When her eyes finally ascended to meet his gaze, her cheeks were tinged rosy, and the corners of her lips were beginning to pull up.

“Is that for me?”

It was potentially the worst response she could have given – or the best, he supposed, depending on his chosen interpretation – and Jack felt the color drain from him. His ears buzzed. His breathing shortened. “I—um, please, it’s…it’s not—”

“Don’t be embarrassed!” She laughed and approached him, placing a hand on his face. “Perhaps this is part of the test, too. It can be hard to know.”

Certainly it would be an unexpected facet. He burned with shame and wished to be lit on fire so that he could feel the aching humiliation no more. “This is…embarrassing,” he admitted.

“Well,” she said, placing her other hand upon his chest and trailing a light finger. “I could make it more fun. After all, the traditional rules don’t explicitly outlaw either party taking pleasure in the trial.”

His breath hitched at her words, eyes going wide as she gazed up through her lashes. She pressed her thigh into his semi-hardness, and he gasped, squirming now for a different reason.

His breath came in short, hot puffs. “Do…you think this appropriate?” he managed.

“I will do nothing against your will,” she reminded him. “And I will do nothing I don’t wish to do. To me, if we are both desiring of something, well, isn’t that what makes it appropriate?”

It was difficult to argue with her reasoning, especially as she gently rubbed her thigh against his sensitive groin, bringing him up to full hardness and giving cause to stifle a small cry.

When he didn’t respond for a moment, she removed her thigh from him and cast her eyes down. Perhaps she was recomposing herself.

“I suppose we should carry on with the trial, though,” she said, taking a small step back. Any concern for her state seemed to have been unwarranted, as the look on her face was more giddy than before, and she moved her hands just enough to delicately touch his sensitive inner thighs. Her touch was electric, making him jolt and pant, even as she resumed tickling him. She brushed delicately between his legs, sweeping down toward his knees and back up again. Jack strained to preserve himself, to snap his knees together and trap her tickling extremities, but he couldn’t move them more than a few centimeters in any direction. This resulted in his knees trembling, jerking, and shaking, and now the devious grin on Robyn’s face added a confusing element to his predicament, making him both desire for the tickling to stop and, somehow, to have more of it.

With confusion and the beginnings of anguish, a frustrated moan slipped past his lips. At that, Robyn’s eyes widened, and a brighter color made it’s way to her face. She smiled.

“Well, seems perhaps you are already enjoying this more than I thought.”

In short, panting breaths, between quiet titters, he said, “I’m not…sure…hehe…what I’m feeling.”

“Well, we have plenty of time to figure it out, I suppose,” she promised.

Jack howled when she tickled the backs of his knees, going weak and simultaneously trying to bend them and straighten them, struggling desperately in vain. There was nowhere to go, he knew it, and along with the desperation to escape his heart hammered with the desire for _more_ , for intimate contact as he made a strangled sound and tumbled back into the pit of hysteria with soft giggles and trembling.

Breathless laughter returned to him, and Robyn again stopped, allowing him time to breathe and offering him another sip of water.

“How are you maintaining?” she asked.

Jack huffed a laugh. “I believe I will survive, try as you might to break me.”

“Break you? This isn’t meant to break you!” She tweaked his sides, and he yelped. “It’s meant to be a test of endurance. How much longer will you allow me to elicit these tempting, sweet responses from you?”

“I am steadfast in my commitment to get what I need.”

“Are you sure? The sun’s going down.” She tapped steadily on his ribs, and a string of giggles escaped him. “You’re going to wish for respite soon. Wouldn’t it be nice to relax a little?”

“You have already mentioned one way in which this could be more enjoyable. I will not be fooled by you.” He smiled down at her, sweating and panting but determined not to give. Before he could lose his nerve, he said, “Unless, of course, your… _offer_ is still on the table.”

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask.” She pressed the palm of her hand directly to his revitalized erection, and Jack sputtered; he would have doubled over but for the bonds.

“In all seriousness,” she continued, “this is not a part of the trial. If you wish me to stop, I will. I will not hold it against you.” She rubbed a thumb against him through the fabric, and his heart stuttered in his chest.

“I…I think I’d much prefer if you continued,” he breathed.

She gave a low sigh. “So would I.” With both hands, she worked the folds out of the fundoshi, only taking a few moments to figure it out, and tossed it to the floor.

Air felt cold against his flushed length, and he gasped when it sprung free, not daring to look down at himself, focusing instead on Robyn. Her eyes were wide, and she looked up at him with smugness on her features. “What a pretty cock you have, Samurai.”

The lewd comment made him burn, and the extremity twitched, as though it knew it was the center of her attention. For a moment she only stood, hovering nearby but not quite touching him, gaze darting over his face before she gingerly reached forward and brushed the backs of her fingers against his groin, though not giving him any touch where he wanted it – where he _needed_ it.

Without the thin layer of protection, the area was extra sensitive, though the tickling sensation had all but ceased in favor of a warmer, more erogenous one. A whimper caught in his throat, and slowly, agonizingly slowly, she wrapped her hand around his cock, brushing the fingers of her other up his side. The resulting sound that punched out of Jack was a laugh mixed into a moan, and he bared his teeth to control the volume, which resulted in the sound elevating to a sharp whine at the tail end.

Robyn laughed deviously and stroked delicately out, the heel of her hand catching on the head as it passed, which made Jack sigh, low and grumbly. She stroked toward him, equally as slow, grip loose and casual and _maddening_. She began to skitter her fingers along his belly in time with her strokes, until Jack was a panting, moaning, laughing mess. Every touch zinged through him like a static shock, until he was certain he was bound to climax no matter her intentions. A burning buzz sat, low in his belly, aching to be set free as she continued the sweet torment.

“ _Please_ …” he finally said, nearing tears.

“So soon?” she cooed, and Jack’s skin prickled.

“I…I can’t stand it…” he said. His mouth was dry, and he whimpered when she ceased her ministrations. His erection twitched, bobbing in the air, desperate for more friction, more something, more _anything_.

“How would you like to finish?” she asked.

The question caught him off-guard; he assumed that was a decision she would make, especially considering his physical position. More than that, he was loathe to answer, words catching at the tip of his tongue, not sure exactly what he wanted, just that what she was giving him was short of sufficient.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. If he could have blushed harder in that moment, he would, but there was no blood left elsewhere in his body to contribute to the cause. He licked his lips and said, “What y-you were doing – that was fine, I think.”

“That’s all? I can give you more, you know,” she said, sauntering closer.

Certainly, he believed, he would physically combust as she sank to her knees and ghosted hot breath over his hard dick. His head fell against the board with a _thump,_ and he squeezed his eyes shut.

“You do not have to do that,” he whispered – though he really, _really_ wanted her to.

“It would be so nice, though,” she countered.

He gasped in ragged breaths when he felt something soft against the tip of his cock, eyes snapping open to look down as she brushed her plump, pink lips over him again.

“It – it is y-your choICE!” he shouted when her tongue darted out to swipe across it, lapping up little droplets of precum and making him whirl.

“It would be my pleasure,” she said, and with a smooth, slow motion, she took him into her mouth. It was hot, and wet, and Jack knew he was doomed; it felt _way_ too good, and he couldn’t even move, his mouth falling open in a pant. He stared down and watched as her head bobbed down. It took all of his willpower not to thrust forward. He could feel her tongue laving the underside, sending warm waves of pleasure rolling up and outward from the point of contact. He was grateful to the bonds for keeping him steadily in place, because he surely would have collapsed to the ground in bliss.

His hips began to fight him, giving tiny, stubborn jerks in an attempt to seek out pleasure on his behalf. Profane slurping sounds filled the small area, unfiltered and unmasked by any other noise.

He moaned, low and loud and unabashed. His fingers curled into fists over his head.

“I’m…I believe I’m going to…” he panted, trying to hold on for just a little longer, when her hands came up to gently caress his hips before pinning them against the wooden frame.

Perhaps it was simply timing, but the firmness of her dominating motion and the expert work of her hot tongue finally tipped him over the edge, and he seized up, a hedonistic growl tapering into a shameful sob as he came, and she didn’t stop, suckling and licking and holding him steady until the sensation crossed the threshold from pleasure into torment, his sensitivity piquing, which caused him to jerk and yelp.

Finally, her mouth came off him with a wet _pop_. She looked up at him, eyes glimmering. Jack panted, belly heaving, half-hard cock finally relaxing against his thigh.

He opened his mouth to speak, but it was that moment Robyn chose to squeeze both his thighs just above his knees. Weary and sensitive post-orgasm, Jack screamed a laugh. He had no idea anything could tickle like that, and it didn’t get better when she massaged up his legs, kneading and poking her way up to his hips, over his sides and belly, up his ribs, until he was a blubbering, chortling mess. Tears sprang from his eyes as he wriggled and sobbed, unable to free himself, try as he might. His nerves sparked, surely a hundred times more sensitive than before on every part of his body, and Robyn laughed and laughed right alongside him as she poked and prodded every raw nerve, until Jack gasped for breath, vision going blurry. His voice grew hoarse and he began to wheeze, unable to choke down air fast enough, until he began coughing and going lightheaded.

It was only then that Robyn ceded. Jack fell limp, body hanging from the shackles. He felt like jelly. There was no way he could move, even if he wanted to…which, he didn’t.

Robyn helped him drink some more water, holding his head so he didn’t have to strain. She stroked his damp face with sweet affection, until Jack felt consciousness abandoning him.

 

*****

 

When he woke, Jack wore no shackles. His eyes blinked open in dim light; his body had been covered with a blanket, and his clothing lay on the canvas near to him. A warm weight pressed against his sight, and he turned his head to find Robyn. She stirred when he did, and she looked happy to see him awake.

Jack sat up, slowly; his hair was braided down his back. Every muscle scolded him for moving.

He leaned over the woman who lay beside him. “Did I perform adequately?” he inquired.

Robyn sat up as well, and she lightly traced her nails down his back. Jack shivered and sighed, relaxing at the touch.

“Phenomenally,” she assured. “I see no way the spirits could deny you now.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've published exactly two other smut pieces under my real name, and I only get the nerve to do it once every couple of years or so. I'm working up to being more confident, both in my writing and in my ideas, along with not being ashamed of the things I'm interested in or like. So here, enjoy this thing I've somehow found the courage to post.


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